EiR: Remortal at Hogwarts
by Upgrade
Summary: Harry Potter died along with Voldemort eleven years ago. A student at Hogwarts ends up with Harry's task in his place. But this boy is far more than he seems.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters and places belong to J.K. Rowling.

This story is a crossover with one of my own, an ongoing series I've had in the works for years called _Exploits in Remortality_.

EiR Infusion: Remortal at Hogwarts 

Year 1: Eric Crome and the Sorcerer's Stone

Written by Upgrade

Chapter 1: A Prophesy Made False

Inside the mystical castle known as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a woman in an emerald green cloak and square glasses entered the Headmaster's office. Her hair was black, resting in a bun that went well with her strict, plain face. "Here you are, Dumbledore. Why this was the last place I looked, I will never know," she spoke.

Her words were directed at Hogwarts' Headmaster, a thin and tall old man with gray hair and beard past his waist in length. He wore a purple cloak with his robes and buckled high-heeled boots. On his long, crooked nose was a pair of half-moon spectacles. Behind the glasses was a pair of glittering blue eyes, "You've been looking for me? When you could have been celebrating? I myself was invited to six feasts and parties today."

"Yes, everyone's celebrating, alright. Too much, I would say. I'm sure even the Muggles have figured out that something is going on," she replied.

"You can't really blame them, Professor McGonagall. We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years," he held out a little glass dish filled with yellow candies, "Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A **what**?" her eyes widened ever so slightly.

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of," he explained.

"No, thank you," McGonagall's cold tone hinted at her thoughts, as if this was not the time for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who **has** gone-"

"My dear professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name: **Voldemort**. For eleven years I've been trying to persuade people to drop this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense and call him by his proper name," Dumbledore complained as he ate two lemon drops.

McGonagall winced at the evil wizard's name. "I know you've never seen any reason to be frightened of **Voldemort's** name," her voice was both exasperated and admiring, "But you're different. You're the only one he was afraid of."

"You flatter me. Voldemort had powers I will never have," he calmly responded.

"Only because you're too...**noble**, to use them."

"I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs." It wasn't all that plain to see, but he was red-faced.

"Have you heard any of the rumors going about?" the witch was extremely serious now, "They're saying that Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. And that Lily and James Potter are- are- that they're **dead**."

Dumbledore bowed his head in acknowledgment.

She gasped, "Lily and James...I can't believe it...I didn't want to believe it...Oh, Albus..."

"I know...I know..." he patted her shoulder.

"That's not all," her voice shook, "They're saying he tried to kill Harry, the Potter's son. But, in doing so, his power somehow broke, and he was destroyed."

Dumbledore nodded grimly.

"It's- it's **true**? After all he's done...all the people he's killed...he died killing an infant? It's just astounding...of all the things to stop him..." she was stunned.

"Yet, Harry shouldn't have died..." Dumbledore mumbled.

"What? What do you mean?" McGonagall wondered.

"Oh, my. Did I say that out loud?"

"What do you mean, 'Harry shouldn't have died'?" she repeated.

Dumbledore sighed, "The reason Voldemort attacked the Potters, is that he was told of a prophesy. A real, honest-to-goodness prophesy, which I happened to hear in its entirety. Simply put, one who is born in the end of July, to parents who have defied Voldemort three times, will vanquish the Dark Lord. He will be marked by Voldemort as his equal, but he will have power Voldemort does not. And neither can live while the other survives," he summarized.

"Harry was indeed marked by Voldemort, with a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. But something went wrong, and Harry didn't survive. Either Voldemort is truly gone, which I doubt, or the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord is not going to be able to do so," Dumbledore added.

"If...if this prophesy is right, and Voldemort returns...without Harry, will there be no hope of stopping him?" McGonagall worried.

"The prophesy never did say that Harry would be our **only** hope. Perhaps, we will find another..."

Nearly eleven years later...

On the southern coast of England, a young boy climbed down a steep, treacherous cliff face. Waves crashed against the rocks far below him. He used no tools to make his decent, not even a rope. His dirt brown hair was blown wildly by the ocean winds. A pair of white-and-blue running shoes protected his feet. A black leather belt held up his unfaded blue jeans. His torso was covered by a gray t-shirt, and he wore a glossy metal bracer on his left arm. On the back of his right hand was a tattoo in platinum ink. The design was of a circle, split vertically by a thin line and crossed horizontally by a lemniscate (otherwise known as an infinity symbol).

Looking down with his deep blue eyes, the dawn's light making them glitter like sapphires, he could see a few large chunks of stone in the water. He continued towards them, moving at a pace that many would consider almost too fast to be safe.

_\Eric, why exactly are you doing this?\ _a voice spoke into the boy's mind.

"Because something down there is calling to me, Negari. I can feel it," the boy admitted, his accent that of an American.

_\It is probably a trap,\ _the voice stated.

"That just makes it more fun," Eric smirked.

Finally, he reached the bottom, pushing himself off the cliff face and onto one of the flatter big rocks there. Climbing across some of the seaweed-covered boulders at the cliff's base, he stopped and peered into the water. There was an odd little whorl there, a sign of a cavern beyond. He dove right in, swimming skillfully into the aperture in the cliff wall.

The water was freezing, but the boy seemed not to notice. The lack of light didn't bother the boy, either, as he moved ahead without pause. Eventually, the water-filled tunnel, not even a meter in width, opened up into a cave. Making his way out of the water, he stood in the chamber. He felt along the wall as if searching for something, until he reached a certain point. Touching his right hand to that spot, a brilliant white outline of an archway momentarily appeared in the wall. "Hah. Too easy," he mumbled.

He started running his fingers along where the archway had been, then over the area inside the archway. A sharp piece of stone pricked his finger in the process, and he smeared a bit of his blood on the rock. Rubbing at the minor wound, he saw the archway light up briefly once more. "I see..." Finding a fine-tipped point on the nearby wall, he used it to make a gash on the back of his right arm. He then slid the wound across the rock under the archway, spreading his blood over it. The archway grew bright again, and the stone within it disappeared. Eric went on through without hesitation.

On the other side of the archway was a gigantic cavern, with a vast dark lake within. From out on the mirrored lake surface, a good ways from the shore, a sickly green-glowing fog could be seen. He started walking around the edge of the lake, gazing into the water thoughtfully. Finally, he grasped a spot in the air near the water's edge with his right hand. With his left index finger, he tapped the other hand on the first knuckle. A green-glowing copper chain shot out of the water and into his hand. Examining the chain, he touched it with a finger, and the chain proceeded to coil up upon the lake bank. In the process, a boat that shone with the same light as the chain rose up from the water.

Climbing in the boat, it began to move as soon as he had settled, heading towards the lake's center. After some time, he reached a tiny level island. There, he found a pedestal, on top of which was a stone basin. Looking inside the bowl, he found a green fluid that was the source of the emerald mist. He tried to touch it, but some barrier stopped his hand. His fingers could reach no further than an inch away. He pounded against the barrier a couple of times, but with no result.

"Great. Now what?" Eric grumbled. Pulling a silvery pen-like object from his pocket, he tried to stab at the barrier. It went right through as if the barrier wasn't even there. But once his fingers got close, they were stopped. He put the metallic pen-sized stick away, "Okay, that's something..." Staring at the liquid in the basin for a moment, he made a simple iron soup cup appear in his hand. Using the cup, he filled it with the potion in the basin. "Here goes," he drank the fluid down in one gulp.

Pain shot through his system. It was like having a full-body ache. He scooped up another cup full of the liquid and chugged it down, and the pain got stronger. Another cup, and another, and another, the pain getting worse each time.

_\Eric! Stop! Do not drink anymore!\ _Negari screamed in Eric's mind.

He started getting mad, stubbornly refusing to cease imbibing the toxin, "I've had worse!" The pain continued to increase. Another cup. He started seeing horrendous images, visions of those he had loved, being brutally tortured. It only enhanced his fury. Another cup. The visions continued, and his anger grew. Another cup, this one the last.

Eric clutched his throat, thirsty beyond compare, but the pain was otherwise gone instantly. He pulled a canteen out of nowhere, much as he had the cup, and tried to drink it down. But the water faded away before it reached his mouth. "Fuck," he cursed. Grimacing, he looked in the basin now, seeing some kind of locket. He picked it up and stuffed it in his pants, then collected his cup and canteen and made them disappear in his grasp. Resisting the urge to drink from the unhealthy-looking black lake, he returned to the boat and let it carry him back across to shore.

He discovered that the archway had closed, so he had to reopen the wound on his arm to bleed on the rock again. From there, Eric made his way back to the cliff, ignoring the pain the salt water gave to his arm, and summoned another canteen. This one he was able to drink from, soothing the ache in his throat. "Ahh," he sighed, and the canteen vanished. Still full of vigor after that whole ordeal, he carefully scaled his way back up the cliff.

Once up at the top, Negari asked him, \_Was it worth it?\ _

Eric pulled out the locket. It was plain and unassuming, made of cheap gold, and he could detect no magic from it. Opening it, he found a folded piece of paper inside. He unfolded it and read the words. "To the Dark Lord, I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. And it's signed, R.A.B."

_\So, to answer my question...\ _Negari began.

"It's a mere trinket. Not worth much of anything," Eric finished with a sigh. He made the locket disappear like he had with the soup cup and canteens.

_\Y ou are going to bother with storing it in your soulspace?\ _Negari was a bit surprised.

"Eh, I could find a use for it eventually. Besides, if I ever meet this 'Dark Lord', I'll be sure to pass along Rab's note," the boy reasoned.

_\Rab?\ _the voice repeated.

"Well, I don't very well know what the initials stand for, so I'll just call the one who wrote the note Rab. Anyway, now I'm curious. It sounds like the Horcrux was very important to the Dark Lord, and that Rab sought vengeance. But what, exactly, is a Horcrux? Rab said 'mortal once more'. Was this 'Dark Lord' really immortal? Or merely very powerful? Was the Horcrux really the source of this immortality or power? Is the Dark Lord mortal now, or even still alive? And what exactly killed Rab?" Eric closed his eyes for a minute, the water in his clothes evaporating away in that time.

_\Good questions. But where could we get answers?\ _Negari queried.

"We'll try London. We can at least sell some of the other stuff we've gathered at one of the pawn shops there. But first, I need some lunch. Should be a few restaurants in the village over there," Eric decided, walking towards the small town a good ways away along the cliffs.

On the way there, Eric could see a man coming towards him from the village. The man had very long and wild black hair, with an equally long and wild black beard to go with it. He wore a thick black trenchcoat, burgundy pants, and heavy-looking boots. As they got closer to each other, Eric could tell that the man was huge, a modern-day Goliath.

"Hey, there, lad!" the giant called, "Are you Eric Crome?"

"That I am. Why do you ask?" Eric wondered.

"Yer a hard one to track down, but I've got a letter for yeh," the giant stated. He pulled out an envelope from a pocket within his coat and held it out for the boy.  
Eric took the envelope, _Who would be sending me a letter? And with this guy as the delivery boy?_ The off-white paper had bright green ink on it, marking it as addressed to Mr. E. Crome, Outside of the Village, by the Cliff. He opened it, finding three pieces of paper inside. The first read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Crome,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Eric looked at the paper incredulously, _Supreme Mugwump?_, and turned to the next page.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY UNIFORM First-year students will require: 1. Three sets of plain work robes (black) 2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear 3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) 4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings) Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS All students should have a copy of each of the following: _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _by Miranda Goshawk _A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot _Magical Theory _by Adalbert Waffling _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration _by Emeric Switch _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _by Phyllida Spore _Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _by Newt Scamander _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT 1 wand 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) 1 set glass or crystal phials 1 telescope 1 set brass scales Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Right. No, thanks; I'll pass," Eric moved to give the letters and envelope back.

"But yeh haven't read the third one yet. Dumbledore wrote that himself, yeh know," the giant said, as if that was supposed to be a big deal.

Eric sighed and read the last piece of yellowish parchment.

Dear Mr. Crome,

From what little I know of you, I suspect that you might be reluctant to go to any school. But I ask that you please come meet with me and allow me a chance to convince you in person.

Hagrid, the one who delivered this letter to you, will guide you here, should you accept my invitation. Please, I only ask that you come hear what I have to say.  
Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Eric frowned thoughtfully. "And you are?"

"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Call me Hagrid, everyone does," the giant offered his palm out to shake. Eric did so without hesitation.

"Eric Crome, wandering seeker of magical treasures. Nice to meet you, Hagrid," the boy returned the introduction.

"Same to yeh, Eric," Hagrid beamed.

"Well, Dumbledore has invited me to speak with him. Would you lead the way?" Eric requested.

"Why, sure! Follow me!" Hagrid turned around and headed back for the village.

_\Why not ask him about Rab and the Dark Lord?\ _Negari suggested.

_I'll wait and ask Dumbledore. No offense to Hagrid, but I suspect I'll get more information from the headmaster of a school for magic-users than the groundskeeper,_ Eric thought.

_\You have a point,\ _Negari admitted.

"Are yeh really only eleven? I would've guessed yeh were a bit older," Hagrid stated.

Eric shrugged, "I get that a lot."

"So, er...have you found any int'restin' treasures?" Hagrid queried, apparently eager for some conversation.

"Nothing too interesting. Over in the United States, I found a clasp for a cape that makes the cloth impenetrable by non-magical projectiles, a handsaw that cuts wood like warm butter, and a candle that never melts. I haven't done much searching in England yet, but I did find a glove that can move around on its own," Eric listed off a few examples.

"Nothin' that special, but nothin' too easy ter come by, either," Hagrid commented.

Walking into the village, Hagrid led Eric to a house and knocked on the door. An elderly woman with short hair opened the door, dressed in a pale blue cloak. "Hello, again, Hagrid. Back already?"

"'ello, Agnes. Yep, just got to take Eric here back teh Hogwarts. Yeh don't mind if we use yer fire, do yeh?" the giant requested.

"Of course I don't mind. That's why I have it, after all," she smiled warmly and stepped aside to let them in. Hagrid had to duck under the door frame.

The boy and huge man moved into the living room, where a fire was burning in the large fireplace. "Have yeh ever used Floo Powder before?" Hagrid asked.

"No," Eric shook his head slightly.

"Okay, I'll go first and show yeh. Just do as I do, an' look for me on the other side before gettin' out," Hagrid advised. He got a pouch out of his coat and pulled a pinch of powder from it. Passing the pouch to Eric, he tossed the pinch into the fire. The flames shot up loudly, turning green. Hagrid stepped into it and shouted, "Hogwarts!" He disappeared, and the fire returned to normal.

Eric shrugged, tossed a pinch of Floo Powder in the blaze, and walked into the emerald fire. It was warm, but comfortably so. "Hogwarts!" he shouted.

Everything started spinning around him, like he was inside of a whirlpool of green flame. He could see a multitude of rooms flash before him from the viewpoint of their fireplaces. In one room, he saw Hagrid, and he stepped forward. Suddenly, he was inside the room with Hagrid.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Eric!" the giant greeted him.

"That was...different," the boy proclaimed. "Here," he passed Hagrid back the pouch of Floo Powder.

"Thank yeh. Come along! Dumbledore's waiting!" Hagrid urged.

Eric wordlessly followed Hagrid through the castle, gazing at everything not with wide eyes of wonder, but mild curiosity. His eyebrows raised at some of the things, like the moving pictures, yet that was the only reaction anything got from him. They arrived outside a hideous gargoyle around a corner, almost as big as Hagrid. "Chocolate sprinkles," Hagrid said, and the gargoyle leapt to the side as the wall behind him spread open. Behind the wall was a spiral magical escalator. The wall shut behind Eric and Hagrid once they stood on the moving steps. After a lengthy ride up, Eric could see a glossy oak door at the top. Hagrid used the griffin-shaped brass knocker, and the door opened without a sound.

Beyond the door was a round and spacious room, with pictures of past headmasters lining the walls. All of them were asleep in their portraits. Tables with screw-shaped legs had silver contraptions making all sorts of cute little sounds like some kind of odd symphony. A vast desk with clawed feet rested in front of a shelf with a battered pointed hat resting on it. Behind the desk sat an old man with a very long beard and half-moon glasses. A bird sat on its golden perch next to the door. It was the size of a swan, and had brilliant red and orange plumage, with a very long tail of golden feathers. It had golden talons and a long golden beak, reflecting the light off of them.

"Thank you, Hagrid. If I may speak with Eric in private?" the old man requested.

Hagrid nodded and left the room, closing the oak door behind him.

"Please, have a seat," the old man gestured to the small couch in front of his desk. Eric sat in the middle, fingers interlaced. "As you have probably guessed, I am Albus Dumbledore."

"Eric Crome. Shall we get right into it?" the boy asked.

"As you wish," Dumbledore nodded.

"You want me to go to school here. I have some reservations. To make things easier, I'm going to list them off: I don't have money for tuition. I have no respect for authority and tend to break the rules whenever I feel the need, which means I'm likely to be expelled long before graduation. I suspect that you'll try and stick me with some family when I'm not in school. And I'm dreadfully curious as to why you have taken such a personal interest in me," Eric said.

"No need to worry about tuition. You would receive a full scholarship. Even your school supplies would paid for," Dumbledore announced.

_\A full scholarship, and free supplies? He really wants you to come here,\ _Negari commented.

_And I'm sure it's not just out of some desire to see my potential tapped or some shit like that, _Eric thought back cynically. _But what is it that he wants from me?_ To Dumbledore, Eric spoke aloud, "How generous. But, should I decide to come here, I would rather pay for my own school supplies. Institutions of learning are known for being miserly when it comes to this sort of thing, and I don't want to risk getting shoddy used goods."

"Understandable. Continuing to your second concern, as headmaster, I do have some say when it comes to expulsion. As long as you don't do anything too terrible, I can see that you remain a student here," Dumbledore stated.

"Go on," Eric encouraged.

"Legally speaking, I'm afraid I must have you taken in by a family during the summer break. But I shall try to find one that you can accept, and if not, there won't be anything stopping you from leaving on your own during that time," the old wizard smiled.

"Heh. I guess I can go with that," Eric lightly smiled back.

"Finally, as for my personal interest in your being a student here...Well, I feel that Hogwarts, and society, could greatly benefit from your learning here," Dumbledore finished.

_There's something about the way he said that..._ "Alright. Now I've got a few questions," Eric announced. "First off, what do you know about someone called the Dark Lord?"

Dumbledore's expression turned serious. "That is what Death Eaters call Voldemort."

"Death Eaters? Voldemort? Please explain."

"Voldemort was a wizard, a powerful and evil wizard, who held the magic community in terror. Most were, and still are, so scared of him that they refuse to say his name, referring to him as 'You-Know-Who'. I never really saw the reason for it. His followers, known as Death Eaters, called him the Dark Lord. They all bear a magical tattoo of a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth, known as the Dark Mark. They would display this symbol in the sky above areas they had attacked," Dumbledore told him.

"The Imperius Curse, Imperio, which gives complete and total control over the victim. The Cruciatus Curse, Crucio, which causes immense pain and can drive a person insane. The Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, which instantly kills the victim and cannot be blocked. The Death Eaters used these Unforgivable Curses to eliminate any opposition. They hated Muggles, what we wizards call non-magic folk, and would often target them for their attacks. Many helpless people were tortured and killed with those spells."

_\Sounds like he deserved the title of Dark Lord,\ _Negari remarked.

"You said 'Voldemort **was** a wizard'," the boy quoted. "What happened to him?"

"Voldemort was defeated when he attacked the Potter family. James was the first to die, and then Lily. Their newborn son, Harry, was seemingly defenseless. But Lily had given her life to cast a spell on Harry, in order to save him. When Voldemort cast the Killing Curse upon Harry, the power of his spell was reflected back upon him, and he was gone. Harry still died, though. I suspect Voldemort interrupted Lily's spell, and so it could not protect him enough."

"Did Voldemort ever have a Death Eater with the initials R.A.B.?" Eric inquired.

"Why do you ask?" Dumbledore wondered.

Eric took out the letter and handed it to the old wizard, "I found this in a cave under the cliff Hagrid found me at. It's addressed to the Dark Lord by an R.A.B."

Dumbledore read the note, "There was one Death Eater who deserted Voldemort while he was still in power. Voldemort's power killed him just a few days later. His name was Regulus Black."

"Well, apparently Regulus got a bit of revenge in that time. But what is a Horcrux?" Eric asked.

"That is a banned subject here at Hogwarts, Eric, understand that. You are not to speak of it with anyone else," Dumbledore firmly demanded. "A Horcrux is an item that holds a piece of someone's soul. As long as that piece remains, part of the soul is protected, and that person is unable to die. Part of them remains alive, if one can call it living."

"So, Voldemort had split his soul, thinking he would be immortal. But Regulus destroyed the Horcrux, so Voldemort is gone for good. Unless..." Eric glanced at Dumbledore, "You think he made more than one Horcrux, don't you?"

"I was one of his teachers. I have a good insight into how he thinks. It is a very good possibility that he did make multiple Horcruxes. But I don't know how many. At least we know that one of them has been destroyed," Dumbledore said.

"This is the real reason you wanted me here, isn't it?" Eric accused. "You want me to learn magic so I can find the Horcruxes."

"I admit, the idea had crossed my mind," Dumbledore confessed.

"I can understand why you didn't outright tell me. This isn't the sort of thing a normal eleven-year-old should be worrying about. Of course, I'm far from normal," Eric smirked. "Alright, Dumbledore. I'll go to school here."

"Excellent!" Dumbledore exclaimed. He got out of his seat and went to the door, opening it. "Hagrid, would you help Eric with collecting his school supplies?"

The giant, who had been standing outside of the door, nodded, "Of course!"

Eric left the room to stand beside Hagrid, "I suppose we should get going, if I'm going to sell some of my stuff. It might take awhile, but I'll need the money for supplies."

"Right," Hagrid agreed, and moved to the stairs. Eric followed.

"Take care," Dumbledore said, and retreated back into his office.

Author's Notes

I've had this idea stuck in my head for quite a while now. It's been distracting towards my other writing lately, so I finally typed this up. Please leave a review. Good ones encourage me to work on this more.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters and places belong to J.K. Rowling.

If you didn't read the warning in the first chapter, you might want to do so. There will be no further reminders.

EiR Infusion: Remortal at Hogwarts 

Year 1: Eric Crome and the Sorcerer's Stone

Written by Upgrade

Chapter 2: Diagonal Shopping and Fractional Trains

After another dose of Floo Powder in one of Hogwarts' many fireplaces, Eric and Hagrid entered Diagon Alley. "So, yeh'll be needin' ter sell those treasures of yers, right?" Hagrid asked.

"No, I've got some bars of platinum I can trade, if you know a place to do so. Should be more than enough to fund my school supplies," Eric replied. _I can always pawn off the usual junk later. I want Dumbledore to know that I don't need taken care of, and this might help convince him._

"Plat'num?!" Hagrid exclaimed. "Better take it ter Gringotts, then."

"Gringotts?" Eric repeated questioningly.

"Wizard's bank. Only one we've got. Run by goblins," Hagrid explained.

"I see," Eric nodded slightly.

Hagrid led the way through Diagon Alley, passing shops of flying broomsticks, cauldrons, wands, books, robes, and a multitude of other things. Eric could see a lofty white building ahead, and correctly assumed this to be their destination. Soon, they were standing in front of Gringotts' shimmering bronze doors. Beside the doors was a small, dark-skinned being with elongated fingers and feet, wearing a scarlet and gold uniform. The goblin, for that was what he was, bowed as they passed. After the bronze doors was a set of silver ones. Eric noted the warning poem written on them.

"Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it. All the vaults 'er hundreds of miles deep under the Underground. Enchantments. Dragons guard some of 'em. Only place might be safer to keep anything safe would be Hogwarts," Hagrid muttered to his young companion.

Two more goblins guarded the silver doors, and again, they bowed as the boy and giant passed through. Beyond the doors was a gigantic marble hall. Countless doors lined the walls. Over a hundred more goblins sat behind an extensive counter, working with money or other accountancy tasks.

Hagrid walked up to a goblin who was not currently busy. "Morning. We've come to make an exchange. In plat'num."

Eric pulled six bars of platinum from his pockets, although they hadn't been there just a moment before. Each bar was about the size of a roll of quarters, only rectangular. He set them on the counter. The goblin's eyes widened for a moment. He picked one up and examined it closely, even using a little magnifying scope. He weighed them on the scale next to him, finding them to weigh about 600 grams each (approximately 1 lb 5 oz). Eric estimated their worth as about $170,000 all together, or £83386.47.

About half an hour later, Eric had half the money from his platinum in an account at the bank, while he carried the rest himself, stored away in his soulspace. "So, Hagrid, how exactly does wizard currency work? Galleons to Sickles to Knuts, I mean."

"One gold Galleon is seventeen silver Sickles, and there're twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle. Simple enough, right?" Hagrid said.

_Seems more convoluted to me,_ Eric thought. _Seventeen and twenty-nine? What for?!_

"Ugh, glad I hadn't eaten yet. That cart ride down to yer new vault would've made me lose it fer sure," Hagrid commented.

"Really? I thought it was fun. Like riding a roller coaster on overdrive," Eric stated. "But speaking of food, I'm hungry. Any restaurants around here? I'm buying."

"Well, there's the Leaky Cauldron. More of a bar than a rest'raunt, but the food is good. Yeh wouldn't mind if I got a pick-me-up there, would yeh?" Hagrid checked.

"Sounds fine to me," Eric gestured for Hagrid to guide the way.

A jaunt down to the end of Diagon Alley brought them to a brick wall. "Three up, two across. Right. Stand back, Eric," Hagrid tapped three times on the wall with his umbrella. The brick he tapped vibrated before turning into a hole that progressively got wider until there was an archway in the wall. On the other side was a tiny walled courtyard with a couple of trash cans and weeds, and a door. They walked through the door into a small, darkly lit pub. Conversations stopped as most everyone greeted Hagrid warmly.

"The usual, Hagrid?" queried the bartender, reaching for a glass.

"Sure, Tom. And a late lunch for me an' Eric here," Hagrid told him.

After eating, Hagrid took Eric back into Diagon Alley. Their next stop was Madame Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. Eric didn't want to wear the robes, much preferring a t-shirt and pants, but he had to admit, they were comfortable. Following that, they bought Eric's school books at Flourish and Blotts, a shop full of books in sizes from immense to miniscule. Eric scanned the pages of his school books like they were flip books. They picked up his telescope, brass scales, dragon hide protective gloves, and black winter cloak at various shops. Eric wore the cloak, using the clasp he had found back in the United States. They also bought a large trunk, to hold all of the supplies.

"Okay, that's everything but my wand," Eric noted as they left the Apothecary, having just picked up his basic potions supplies.

"Yeh don't be wantin' an owl or somethin'?" Hagrid inquired.

"No, thanks," Eric confirmed.

"Well, then Ollivanders it is. Best place for wands, Ollivanders," the giant declared, leading the way.

Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. That was what the peeling golden letters above the door read. The window was nearly empty, except for one wand on a dull purple pillow. The building looked to be in need of repairs. As they stepped inside, the tinkling of bells went off in the back of the tiny. Hagrid sat in the only chair. Eric could feel the magic in the air, untapped. It gave the room an eerie feel. Thousands of boxes were piled nearly to the ceiling throughout the room.

Eric felt a presence behind him. "Good afternoon," spoke a quiet voice from the presence. Hagrid jerked in surprise, causing the chair to groan at him. The big man decided it was better to get out of the seat before it broke.

The boy turned to see an old man standing there, his eyes glowing with silver light in the dark room. "Good afternoon," Eric greeted back.

"And what would your name be?" Ollivander questioned.

"Eric Crome," the boy stated.

"Ah. An American," Ollivander said, as if that explained something. He looked up and saw the giant in the room. "Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid!" Ollivander and Hagrid struck up a conversation about the latter's wand.

_So Hagrid's broken wand is in his umbrella,_ Eric thought as he listened to the exchange.

"So, Mr. Crome, which is your wand arm?" Ollivander pulled out a measuring tape. Eric held out his right arm. He measured Eric's arm in most every way possible, as well as the circumference of his skull. Ollivander said the next bit as if repeating a speech, telling Eric of the different core types used in wands, and of how one wizard's wand would never be as effective for another."

As the wand maker began shuffling through boxes, the measuring tape continued to move on its own, currently measuring the space between Eric's mouth and nostrils. "That will do," Ollivander ordered, and the tape fell to the floor. "Alright, Mr. Crome, give this a wave. Ash and unicorn hair. Nine and a half inches. Rather supple."

Eric waved the wand, but nothing happened. Ollivander set it aside on the chair and got out another wand, "Yew and dragon heartstring. Fourteen inches. Strong, yet flexible." Eric took the wand, and it felt good in his hand. He waved it around, and a trail of platinum sparks followed the tip. Hagrid cried out in enthusiasm.

A few minutes later, Eric and Hagrid exited the shop. Eric was seven Galleons poorer, but he now had his own wand. Hagrid pulled out an envelope from one of his enormous coat's many pockets and handed it to the boy, "Here's yer ticket fer Hogwarts. Kings Cross, 11:00, first o' September. I figure I better let yeh hang on to it, I wouldn't want to lose it."

Eric pocketed the envelope, "Thanks."

"Well, I suppose I better be takin' yer to yer new home now," Hagrid thought aloud.

"Hey, Hagrid, what's that?" Eric pointed excitedly to the other side of the giant. Hagrid turned his head to look, but saw nothing.

"What's what?" Hagrid looked back, only to find Eric wasn't there anymore. Neither were his school supplies. The huge man sighed, "Dumbledore told me he'd probably do that…"

Over a month later, on September 1st

Eric Crome stood outside of Kings Cross roughly a half hour before eleven. The tattoo that had been on the back of his right hand was missing. He had replaced his trunk with a large duffel bag, which looked far too big and heavy for him to carry. The shoulder strap was slung over his shoulder as he checked his ticket. "Platform Nine and Three-Quarters? Where the bloody fuck is that?" Eric took a look around the area amid the platforms, pausing as his gaze went over the isolating wall between platforms nine and ten. He walked right up to it, and passed through it like it wasn't even there.

Now, Eric stood on a different platform. A sign hanging in the air read Hogwarts Express, Eleven O' Clock. There was a red locomotive parked nearby, with crowds of people around it. Owls hooted in their cages as cats scurried about underfoot. Eric made his way on board the train, moving to the back so as to find an open compartment. He sat on one of the seats, placing his duffel bag beside him. Outside the window, a red-haired family was sending off four boys to school. Their mother was fussing over them, while a girl younger than the rest seemed put off about not being able to go as well.

Soon the train was leaving the station. Eric sighed, frowning a bit. He had been without a family for a long time, and seeing all those families out there had made him feel lonely. The compartment door slid open, and Eric put on a more pleasant expression as the youngest of the redheaded boys came in. "Anyone sitting there?" the freckled boy pointed at the seat opposite of Eric. "Everywhere else is full."

"Mi casa es su casa," Eric waved him in. He saw that the boy had a black smudge on his nose.

"Hey, Ron." Identical twin redheads stuck their faces in the room, each about the height as the redhead already in the compartment. One spoke, "Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula further up the train. We're going to check it out."

"Alright," Ron said.

"Hey, haven't seen you before. You're not a first year, are you?" one twin asked, talking to the boy who wasn't his brother.

"I am," Eric assured him.

The other twin talked next, "Blimey, I would've guessed you were a third year."

"I get that a lot," Eric smiled faintly. "My name's Eric Crome."

"Well, we're Fred and George Weasley. Him there is our brother, Ron," the first twin gestured to each boy as he said their name. "Be seeing you." The twins left.

"I noticed you guys outside the train earlier. You've got a big family," Eric remarked.

"Yeah. Five older brothers, one younger sister. Bill and Charlie already graduated. Bill was Head Boy. Charlie was Quiddich Captain. Percy's a Prefect. Fred and George get good marks, even with all the pranks they pull, and everyone thinks they're hilarious. I'm expected to do as well as them, but since it's expected, it's not a big deal if I do. And everything I've got is a hand-me-down. Even Percy's old rat, Scabbers," Ron pulled a large gray rodent from his coat, which was out like a light.

"Your brother's rat? How old is Scabbers?" Eric asked.

"I don't know. He was old when Percy got him," Ron frowned. "All he does is sleep."

Eric stared at the rat for a few seconds, noting its missing toe. _Rats normally only live between two and five years, with an average of three. Of course, the record is over seven years, and maybe magic rats live longer. He is certainly magical._

"Percy got an owl for being made prefect, and I got Scabbers, since dad couldn't aff-, er," the freckled boy trailed off, gazing out the window, apparently embarrassed.

"So, looking forward to any of the classes?" Eric changed the subject. He and Ron started discussing what little they actually knew of Hogwarts. It wasn't long before that topic moved to Quidditch, and Ron was explaining the game to Eric. At nearly 12:30, a cheerful woman with a cart of candy stopped by to see if they wanted to buy any. Eric quickly bought a round of everything, wanting to try them out. He also got some to share with Ron, as all the redhead had to eat was corned beef sandwiches. Since Ron hated corned beef, Eric ate the sandwiches instead. Ron also explained the Chocolate Frog cards.

Eric set aside his Albus Dumbledore card when he heard a knock on the door. A teary-eyed, round faced boy slid open the compartment, "Has anyone seen a toad?"

Ron shook his head. "Nope. Sorry," Eric told the round faced boy.

The boy sobbed, "I just can't keep a hold of him! I've really lost him this time!"

"Hey, calm down," Eric said soothingly. "What's your name?"

"Neville. Neville Longbottom," the boy sniffed.

"Alright, Neville. If we see your toad, we'll let you know. Just keep looking, okay?" Eric assured him.

"Okay. Thanks," Neville left.

"I wouldn't be so worked up over a toad if I was him," Ron commented.

"Eh, to each their own," Eric replied.

"Not that I'm one to talk. All I've got is Scabbers. He could die, and you wouldn't be able to tell. George gave me a spell to turn him yellow, but I couldn't get it to work. I'll try again," Ron dug out a beat up wand, the unicorn hair core peeking out the handle. He raised the wand and said, "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

The compartment door opened as he was attempting his spell. A girl with shaggy brown hair stood there with Neville, wearing her school robes. Scabbers was unchanged by the spell. The girl spoke rapidly in a bossy tone, "Is that a real spell? All the spells I've tried have worked, although they were all simple ones. I was amazed when I got my letter; no one in my family has ever been magical. Hogwarts is supposed to be the best there is. I've memorized all the course books, hopefully that will keep my grades up. I'm Hermione Granger, who are you?"

"Eric Crome, and this is Ron Weasley," the American introduced them. "Nice to meet you, Hermione. Hey, Neville, found your toad yet?"

"Not yet. But Hermione's helping," Neville replied.

"Well, good luck. You could cover more ground if the two of you split up," Eric advised.

"Yes, we had better get back to finding Neville's toad. We should be arriving soon. You two ought to get changed," Hermione said before she left, Neville not far behind.

"I think you should be more wary of spells your brothers give you," Eric stated.

"Stupid George …" the redhead grumbled.

"You might want to rub that dirt off your nose before we get there," Eric pointed out.

Ron cleaned the dirt off with his sleeve. "So, you're from America?"

"Well, I was born in England, but I've lived in the U.S. for most of my life," Eric elucidated.

"What's it like over there?" the freckled boy asked.

So Eric explicated to Ron about how things are in the United States of America. He tried to keep things simple and factual, listing some of the good and some of the bad. After a while, their conversation was interrupted by an announcement, stating that they were about five minutes away from Hogwarts. Ron and Eric got out their school robes and slipped them on, Eric somewhat distastefully. Eric let Ron have the rest of the candy, and the Weasley boy happily stuffed his pockets full.

The train slowed and came to a stop outside a small, unlit train platform. Eric stood back and waited for everyone else as they tried to force their way out. The dark air was chill, and Eric noted that there were trees around them blocking any light. He also spotted Hagrid, who was towering over the students while holding an old lamp above his head. "Firs' years! Firs' years, follow me! Any other firs' years?" the giant called out.

The first year students followed Hagrid up a sheer, constricted trail. "Jus round this bend, yeh'll be gettin' yer first sight of Hogwarts," the huge man yelled back. And, indeed, the trail ended at a vast black lake. On the other side of the water was a massive castle, nestled atop a tall mountain peak. Starlight glittered off of the windows of the castle's many towers and turrets.

"Four to a boat only! No more 'n that!" Hagrid motioned them toward a large number of watercraft near the shore. Ron and Eric shared their boat with Neville and Hermione. Hagrid was too big for anyone to share with him. After making sure all the students were in a boat, the giant shouted, "**Forward!**"

The small armada drifted toward the castle, leaving not a ripple in the perfectly still water. "Heads down!" Hagrid ordered as the ships neared the cliff face. Behind a drape of ivy plants was a cave in the cliff, which the boats took them through. After a trip down the dark tunnel, the children arrived at a dock beneath the castle. Small stones lined the earth beside where the boats stopped, and the students got out. Hagrid checked the boats for stragglers, and found Neville's toad in the process.

Ascending by a passage in the stone wall, lit only by Hagrid's lamp, the students arrived outside of Hogwarts on a patch of grass. They climbed the great rock steps there to an immense oak door. Hagrid checked on the children once again, before knocking three times. Immediately the door opened, revealing a tall, stern-faced witch with dark hair, wearing sparkling green robes and a set of square glasses.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," the giant said.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," the emerald witch replied. She pulled the door open further, letting everyone see the gargantuan entrance hall. The ceiling was beyond normal human eyesight. Lit torches lined the stone walls. At the end, a marble staircase headed to higher floors. While voices of older students could be heard from a door on their right, the first year students were taken to another room. They crowded inside, as the room was not very big.

Eric listened to Professor McGonagall's introduction to Hogwarts. _Houses? Points? Using competition to encourage good behavior and effort in class? Not to mention peer pressure. Well, it's not perfect, but I'll bet it's effective._

The emerald witch left, after suggesting that they neaten themselves up. While the rest of the students discussed their theories on the Sorting, Eric moved away from the others and leaned on the far wall. From this position, he was the first to see it when spectral beings started passing through the wall. A number of the first years screamed.

An overweight monk and another ghost in ruffled tights were arguing, apparently about someone named Peeves. "I say, what are all of you doing here?" questioned the tight-wearing ghost.

No one said anything. Eric, unfazed, spoke up, "We're waiting to be Sorted. First years, you know."

"Ah! New students! I hope to see you in Hufflepuff! That was my old house," the Fat Friar commented.

Abruptly, Professor McGonagall returned, and lead the first years single file back across the entrance hall and through the double doors of the Great Hall. Countless floating candles lit up the room. Sitting at four long tables were the older students. Golden cups and plates covered the tables. On the far side of the hall was the teacher's table, easily identified as such by all the adults sitting there, including Dumbledore. Eric noticed that there appeared to be no roof, but looking carefully he could tell it was just an illusion spell to make the ceiling look like the open sky.

Eric recognized the hat Professor McGonagall placed on a stool in front of the new students. It had been in Dumbledore's office, a beat-up and dirty wizard's cap. Everyone watched the hat for a few moments, before it moved. One of its many rips, this one near the bottom, began to move like a mouth as the hat sang. When it finished, everyone applauded. The hat bowed to each student table and went lifeless once more. Ron complained that Fred had told him that he had to wrestle a troll.

"Might've been fun," Eric said under his breath.

_/ I doubt the other students would feel the same way,/ _Negari responded.

Author's Notes

You've probably noticed that I skip certain things, like the Sorting Hat's song, or sum up conversations, like McGonagall's speech to the first years. I have my reasons. For one, I'm trying not to outright plagiarize J.K. Rowling's work too much. For two, I figure me putting these things in would just be a waste of time. Everyone reading this story should already know them. If you don't, go pick up (or maybe even borrow) a copy of the book. Or read any number of other Harry Potter fanfictions that cover his first year.

And thanks to Bobboky and Michael The-Zorch Haney for their replies! Everyone else should reply, too, even if it's just to flame me.


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